


Light in the Darkness

by Oparu



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Found Families, Gen, Strange Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas, as it is, is theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light in the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena/gifts).



The tree fills the room with the scent of pine. Of the woods, not the dark, secret woods of Africa, but the more knowable woods, those of the north, of Scotland, of the continent. Of course, their tree is far from traditional, and the decorations do not echo those found in Buckingham Palace. It bothers them not. 

They extend the invitations to their boys, and their replies are absent, or late, as they expected. That also is of little importance. Their company would be appreciated, and their stomachs would be helpful, when it comes to the feast before them, but their presence is not a palpable absence. 

Sembene sets their meal, and clears it, they eat mostly in silence. Their voices occasionally break the silence, like snowflakes falling, tentative and shy. There's music in the street, trailing, lilting pouring from open doors and windows into the night. It's Christmas Eve, and the world is full of darkness broken by fading wisps of light. 

Malcolm sets tea before her as they sit and stare at the tree. She thanks Sembene without looking up, and finds Malcolm's eyes instead. She smiles, and that too is tentative, but his own smile in return sets hers aflame. 

She cannot help loving him. That erupts through her, as if one of the candles on the tree had set it alight. Her heart is of burnt pitch, of fear and loathing, yet his touch on her shoulder is soft.

Gentle. 

"It's a pity our friends could not join us."

She nods, reaching for the china as if it will creep back from her sullied fingers. She was chosen, over his daughter, over Mina. He could have continued to hope, to pray, to dream, but instead, he let her go. Mina is a memory, a wound that has finally stopped bleeding. 

She still smells blood in the air. Death too, lingers between them, because death is always with her. Her companion that never forsakes her. 

Neither has he. 

He reads, turning the pages in some old novel and that is as important a rhythm as the music outside. Flutes blend with sleigh bells, with shouts, with whips-- Sembene turns the gramphone in the other room, and music much closer to her fills her ears. Malcolm's pages still whisper, as do the ghosts of her past. 

"Your tea will go cold," Malcolm warns. She looks up at him, not sure if he is father or lover, or how the cards will entwine him with her. She is certain she loves him, has, will, and must continue to do so, even as darkness grows around them. She would have given her life for Mina, even the promise of Mina that will not come to fruition. She wanted too.

Perhaps she wanted to so he would remember her with the same fervour. If she would dead, she could be the star he follows into the night sky. 

Vanessa sips her tea. Cinnamon dances across her tongue, igniting her senses and reminding her that life is sweet. 

"A fine blend, is it not?" he asks, looking over the pages of his book. 

"Exotic," she agrees.

"The best things often are," he replies. His maps have nearly all been packed away. He will not go to Africa, not as an explorer, at least. Perhaps, while they search for the master, their trail will inevitably lead them there, to the creature who controls so much death. They'll stand before him together. Not hand in hand, because that is too simple, touch is too simple, but together, eyes forward on the creature of night. 

She knows that. It tingles inside of her, as if her tea had been liquid electricity, taunting her from within. 

"Until they too become familiar," Malcolm mutters to his book. Has he read it before? Does he know what lies in the pages? In the ink? Why does it displease him?

Vanessa says nothing, but sips her tea. Again, it bursts into her mouth, assaulting her senses, and she welcomes it as she welcomes the bruises Mina left on her neck. They've started to heal, fading to brown instead of blue-black. She could cover them, but there is no point. Malcolm knows they are there. Sembene has tended them. 

They are a mark of life.

Her life.

A life that matters to him. No matter how tarnished, how crooked, how shattered, she is his daughter. Perhaps he means of blood. He was with her mother, and he loved her. Maybe she wants him to look at her that way. To run his fingers over the cruises on her pale flesh and know her, as he knew her mother. It is complicated between them and she dare not risk the cards, because her heart will deceive her. Her heart has always wanted more than it could have. 

More than it deserved.

He sets his book aside and looks at her, truly looks, as if he can see into her soul. Perhaps he does. Now that Mina is dead, there's a clarity in his eyes like ice on a still pond. Maybe he will kill her himself. Rid the world of her darkness tonight, when the world is poised, waiting for light. 

Instead, he reaches for her hand, stroking her flesh with shy fingers. It is not until she slips her hand into his that he even breathes. 

"It's a beautiful night," he says. "A better Christmas than we have had for awhile."

"Better than we deserve," she says, looking away from those too-clear eyes. 

"No," he insists. "Vanessa, no." He must repeat himself because she has not looked back to him. "Happiness is not something that is deserved, or given. It may perhaps be earned, but it is a mystery who obtains it in the end. Perhaps it is all luck."

"We have not had much luck."

He shrugs, turning her hand over in his. "Some might say so." He settles back in his chair, smiling as he stares at the tiny candles on the tree. He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it. "I would not."


End file.
